


Aliens Made Them Do It

by karenmcfadyyon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-27
Updated: 2010-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:11:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenmcfadyyon/pseuds/karenmcfadyyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AMTDI.  Seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aliens Made Them Do It

Aliens Made Them Do It

 

And just when things had been going so well, too, John Sheppard thought, and glanced sidelong at Teyla, who was arguing with the…shaman or seer or whatever he was. Nice meet and greet, nice friendly natives—nice big friendly natives, unfortunately--fairly primitive society, but still friendly and willing to trade medicine for lots of food, and then the honcho had appeared and things went to hell.

The point of the javelin held by the really big native in front of him wasn't *quite* touching his throat, but John was holding very still anyway. "Rodney, you okay?"

Rodney cleared his throat. "There's a spear at my throat, Major. I don't think that fits any definition of okay with which I'm familiar."

Snarky Rodney meant he was okay. "Just stand very still, let Teyla try and talk them down."

"Standing very still. Very still. Very still."

"Rodney? Shut up."

Rodney shut up.

Teyla kept arguing. John wished he knew what she was saying. "Ford?"

"I'm good, sir."

"Good, good. Let's all stay calm. No sudden movements."

"Not moving," Rodney said.

"Shut up, Rodney."

Silence again. John regretted that last, looked sidelong the other way, and saw Rodney standing very still. "Teyla?"

She broke off the argument. "Major, I am sorry, we must go with them."

"Did he explain why?"

"According to the Seer, it has to do with a prophecy." Teyla sounded harried. "Involving you and McKay."

"Is this a bad prophecy?" John wasn't sure he really wanted to know. "Like, we bring the Wraith down on them or something?"

"No."

That was unhelpful. John held his hands up in an attempt to look harmless and cursed the moment of relaxation that left his P-90 hanging uselessly until the natives had relieved him of that, his knife, and his side arm. "Okay, we're going with them for the moment, people. Just stay cool."

"Yes, sir." Ford sounded cool.

Rodney didn't answer. That worried him a little, but as the Seer led the way, he saw Rodney moving alongside him.

It was a long walk, and John considered the possibility of diving and knocking down the guys carrying their weapons, but there was a civilian to consider, and the fact that they each had more than one javelin pointed at them made that a very serious consideration.

So.

So John stayed cool, kept his hands up, climbed the way too many stone steps into the temple or whatthefuckever it was. He figured the Wraith were responsible for the fact that so many of the civilizations they'd encountered in Pegasus were on the primitive side, but just once he'd like to run into a civilization that was neither more advanced nor less developed, a civilization that had invented Ferris wheels, football and yes, beer.

If wishes were horses.

They finally reached the top of the stairs, and it was none too soon; even John was a little out of breath, and Rodney was trying to catch his. The temple looked like a set from a Spielberg movie, of course. Didn't they all?

The inside was cooler than the outside, which was the only thing on the plus side so far. On the minus side—

"Sir!" Ford's voice was anxious and a lot farther away than it had been.

They were splitting his team up and that was so not good. John stopped dead, tried to turn his head, but nope, there were those sharp pointy things at his throat again.

"Easy, Lieutenant. Teyla?"

Teyla spoke harshly, her tone demanding. After a moment, he heard footsteps behind him. "I have persuaded them not to separate us for the moment, Major."

John almost smiled. "Thanks. Good work."

"I cannot say for certain how long they will keep our party together, but I will continue to try and persuade the Seer."

"Rodney?" Rodney was still nearby. "You okay?"

"Fine." Clipped tone and it sounded like Rodney had caught his breath at last.

More walking, long corridor, and then more stairs. John could hear Teyla in the background, talking earnestly in a language he didn't understand. "You gettin' anywhere?"

They came to a stop before a stone bas relief of two men standing, one with his foot on the throat of what looked suspiciously like a Wraith. The men—

"Holy shit!" John stared at the carving. "Teyla, are you sure they don't think we're bringing the Wraith down on them?" Not just two men: two men with a suspicious resemblance to himself and Rodney. The one who resembled him was the one with his foot on the throat of the Wraith.

"This is bad," Rodney said faintly.

Teyla was talking again, just as urgently, and the Seer was answering emphatically. "No, it seems the prophecy is otherwise." Her voice was reluctant.

John tried to turn his head, was prevented from doing so. "Teyla, what aren't you telling me?"

Teyla didn't answer him immediately, but took up her argument with the Seer again. After a moment, she sighed. "Major, they believe that you and McKay will prevent the return of the Wraith, but there are certain conditions."

"Conditions?" He tried to look at Rodney again using peripheral vision.

"There is a ritual that must take place." Teyla's tone was even more reluctant now. "A joining ritual."

That didn't sound too bad. "Okay, so what do we need to do?"

There was a brief silence. "You must be joined spiritually and physically." From reluctance, her tone had gone utterly neutral.

"Spiritually and physically," John repeated blankly.

"Oh, dear God," he heard Rodney say as two of the Seer's company opened the huge doors.

"Holy shit," Ford said from behind him.

It took John a moment to process what he was seeing, but the penny definitely dropped. He might be a little slow on the uptake, but larger than life, Technicolor images of him and Rodney engaged in making like naked horny mink were sort of hard to ignore. He slowly became aware that his mouth was open. "Uh, Teyla."

"Yes, Major." Calm again.

"So what happens if we don't, ah, you know."

"We're dead men," Rodney said weakly.

Teyla sighed. "We will be held prisoner until you do."

That could be a problem. "I don't suppose there's any way for you to explain to them that Rodney and I, uh, that we, uh, don't have that kind of relationship."

"I have attempted to do so." Teyla sounded a bit snarky herself. "He says it is of no importance that you do not presently have this bond, he says you must have it in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled."

John was never going to live this down, disarmed by early Iron Age natives who believed in an insane prophecy and confronted with pornographic murals of him with Rodney. Rodney with him. Yeah. "Rodney, any ideas?"

Faintly. "We're dead men."

"They didn't say they were going to kill us, just keep us." Try as he might, John couldn't quite tear his eyes away from the images of himself in the throes of apparently ecstatic sex. With Rodney. Rodney, with him. Him with Rodney. Yeah.

Appallingly, despite the fact that it was Rodney, his dick had taken notice. "Teyla," John said, a little desperately. "We *can't*. You've got to get that through his head."

"I am trying, major." Now Teyla sounded harried again.

There was another spate of the alien language, Teyla's voice and the Seer's, and it went on and on until the Seer snapped something sharply and hands took hold of John and, apparently, Rodney and whoa, wait a goddamn minute—"Hey!" John yelped and felt cold steel slide under his collar. "Wait, wait, wait, dammit!"

Teyla shouted something and it stopped. After a moment, a little breathless, she said, "Major, Dr. McKay, they will allow you to remove your clothing if you cooperate."

"This isn't happening." Rodney sounded shell-shocked. "This is *not* happening. It is not happening."

"Shut up, Rodney," John said furiously. "And if we don't?"

Teyla sighed again. "They will remove it for you."

Oh, for God's sake. "Suck it up, Rodney," John snapped, "Unless you wanna end up walking back to the gate naked, and I'd really rather not."

There was a brief silence. "Right." Rodney's voice was uninflected. "Okay. Well, then."

John regretted his tone, but what the hell, Rodney had a tendency to be high-strung. There was a rustling sound and he realized Rodney was already undressing. Well, hell if he was going to be outdone by a scientist, he thought and shucked his jacket carefully. The pointy things pulled back enough to let him pull off his shirt. There was a nervous moment when he knelt to untie his boots, but once his guards were sure he was only going for the boots, it was okay.

When John had finished, he was morally certain it wasn't possible for him to get any redder, what with the murals and the being naked and all, and he avoided even glancing in Rodney's direction when he was finished.

The Seer said something to Teyla, his tone still not quite satisfied.

"You and McKay must enter the chamber, Major." Teyla sounded resigned again.

John could hear other footsteps behind them. "Okay." He did glance at Rodney then, sighed inwardly at the set of Rodney's jaw and stepped carefully forward. Nothing sharp poked him, so he figured that was okay, kept walking. The stone was cold under his feet, and he tried very hard not to look at the walls. There wasn't any hiding his reaction now, and he'd just as soon not make this more humiliating than it already was. For any of them.

About the time John reached the center of the chamber, one of his guards grabbed his arm, wheeled him around to face the Seer, and, naturally, Teyla and Ford. Nope, despite a career in the military and eyes-front, he wasn't sure it was possible for him to turn any redder. "You doing okay, Rodney?"

"Peachy." Sarcastic tone.

Probably not so okay, but snottiness was better than silence or, frankly, a defeated tone. "If you've got any good ideas, this would be a really good time to tell me."

Rodney remained silent.

Damn.

At least John didn't have his back to the primary danger now. He had to give Ford credit for keeping his expression nice and composed and his gaze on a spot just beyond their shoulders. Teyla was speaking quietly with the Seer again and a horde of young men and women were behind both of them, heading down toward this end of the corridor with a variety of bundles. Nothing, fortunately, that looked even vaguely weaponish.

John kept his folded hands in front of himself, sneaked a quick sideways look at Rodney, and saw him doing the same.

The first part of the horde arrived and John could see that at least four of them were carrying large steaming ewers. "Uh, Teyla?" he called, a little nervously.

Teyla spared him a glance in her argument with the Seer. "The purification begins."

"Of course," Rodney muttered. "The purification."

The ewers were placed on the stone floor and ooookay, purification meant serious sponge bath, and under other circumstances, he could have really gotten into a pretty girl bathing him like this, but this was embarrassingly thorough and—"Hey! Back off!" John fended his attendants off and the Seer barked a command, which led to the ewers being lifted and taken away.

"Freezing," Rodney commented in a singsong voice. "Freezing. Freezing."

"Uh, yeah." Four more attendants, these with strips of what looked like linen. "Brace yourself, Rodney." John wasn't sure being dried off was any less embarrassing, but at least he wasn't as chilled when that was done.

Four more attendants and oh, thank you, Jesus, some kind of….robe. Skimpy robe, not much more than a large piece of fabric with a neck opening and a tie around the waist, but hell, at least it covered bits of John that he'd rather not have on public display. Soft fabric, silky fabric, and maybe it wasn't much covering, it was practically translucent.

Four more attendants and John and Rodney were nudged closer together, which was somewhat anxiety provoking, and a narrow strip of the same kind of fabric was used to, well, bind his wrist to Rodney's wrist, with a long loose strip left hanging. Great, now they were practically holding hands.

"This has officially gotten weirder than I can cope with," Rodney announced, not looking at him. "I hope you'll excuse me if I just have a nice quiet breakdown over here."

John could so relate. "Just breathe, Rodney. Hey, it's just our wrists."

"Uh huh. Sure. Be sure to tell me that again when we have to give this mission report." Rodney was sounding a little high strung.

That was okay. In spite of himself, John was *feeling* a little high-strung at this point. "Teyla, what the hell is going on."?

"The spiritual joining will now take place," Teyla said, sounding both pissed and resigned.

Sure enough, the Seer came in with four new attendants, stood in front of them and put a hand on John's head and a hand on Rodney's head and intoned over them for several minutes, during which John considered and discarded several unlikely escape options as too dangerous, too unprepared and too unworkable.

The guy might be elderly, but he was still a head taller than John and one helluva lot broader. John made a mental note to ask Teyla the relative size of the people they planned to visit during each upcoming mission briefing.

The Seer took a small knife from his belt.

"Ah, Teeeeeyla!" John said warningly. "What the fuck is that?" He did take Rodney's hand then, prepared to yank Rodney back a few steps with him….and then something cold touched the back of his leg. "Shit!"

Teyla was already shouting at the Seer, who held up his free hand in what looked like it was supposed to be a calming gesture.

"It is a small cut only, to signify the joining," Teyla told them finally, relieved.

Hell, she wasn't the only one.

The Seer took their joined wrists, pried John's fingers from around Rodney's hand and pricked the palm of his hand, then the palm of Rodney's hand with the blade. Okay, that wasn't so bad, John thought and the attendants returned to wrap their hands together, so that they had no choice but to lace their fingers together.

More intoning.

John could completely understand why Rodney had said it was officially too weird. He was standing mostly naked in a stone temple with a giant of a man in front of him, holding hands with Rodney McKay. And the weirdest thing, unofficially, was that he was more worried about Rodney than he was about himself.

John looked sidelong at Rodney. "Rodney, you doing okay?"

"Peachy." But Rodney's voice was a little muted. Not upset, exactly and certainly not resigned. When he snuck a look, though, Rodney's expression was reassuring: Rodney looked totally pissed.

Relieved, John squeezed Rodney's hand.

Rodney gave him a level look, but didn't say anything.

John had so fucked up. He'd taken Teyla's word for it that these people were friendly, non-threatening, good trade partners, and sure, it might be true for the Athosians, none of whom were carved in stone or wood or painted in murals on the walls.

Which, now that he thought about it, was extremely unsettling, because they had only been on this world for a few hours, and no way were either the doors or the murals completed in that time. Even if John made the unwarranted assumption that their heads and faces had been added to the bodies, there still hadn't been enough time, and why the fuck was he worrying about this when he still hadn't come up with the grand plan to get them out of this mess?

John wondered if Rodney just trusted him to get them out of it, the way he trusted Rodney with everything else. Jumper not working? He trusted Rodney. Gigantic hurricane on the way? He trusted Rodney. Shields? He trusted Rodney.

Part of John hoped Rodney wasn't trusting him, because if Teyla couldn't talk them out of this, he wasn't at all sure he could do anything but get one or more of them killed. Which thought made his palms sweat and his heart hammer.

John had so fucked this up.

No pun intended.

Rodney squeezed his hand suddenly and he realized that the Seer had stopped talking over them and was talking to Teyla.

Teyla's expression wasn't real reassuring, either. "Major, they will now take you to the place of joining."

Oh, fuck. "Teyla, if you've got any ideas at all, you better let me know."

"Not yet, Major. I will continue trying." She flicked her eyes at the guys behind them, a silent warning.

John nodded and the Seer took their joined hands, led them to an ordinary kind of door on the far side of the porn mural chamber, opened it, and led them in.

Okay, more porn murals. Walls and ceiling. Very Technicolor and larger than life, and as if that weren't scary enough, in the middle of the room, Papa Bear's bed.

"Rodney, they can't force us to do anything," John muttered.

Rodney looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

Maybe John had. "If it comes to that, we can fake it."

Okay, now Rodney really looked at him like he'd lost his mind. John shut his mouth before he could make things worse.

"Holy shit." Ford's tone was prayerful. "Sir, what do you want me to do?"

John sighed. "We can't do anything until Rodney and I are, uh, untied. Then watch for my signal."

The Seer began speaking again. Teyla listened and her expression became more troubled. She spoke urgently to the Seer in her turn, pointed at the two of them, spoke more urgently.

A guard took hold of John's arm and pushed him toward the bed, which made Rodney stumble.

Teyla snapped something, the Seer turned to see, and Ford, God help him, moved to assist, only one of his guards grabbed him and held a knife to his throat.

"Easy," John tried to steady Rodney. "Dammit, Ford, stay still."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

The Seer looked from Ford to John and smiled, not altogether pleasantly before speaking again to Teyla.

Teyla closed her eyes briefly. "Major, he says if you do not complete the ritual, Lieutenant Ford will be punished for interfering.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. "Okay, fine, if everybody will get the hell out, we'll get right on it."

Ford blinked at him. "Staying very still, sir." Steady voice.

John thought Teyla's mouth might have twitched. She spoke politely to the Seer again.

More give and take, back and forth. John looked at Rodney, who was looking at Ford, his mouth set in a thin line. Rodney noticed John looking at him, sighed. "Now what?"

"Like I said, we'll figure something out." Although, John was presently at a complete loss to figure *anything* out and every glimpse of the walls made it even harder to think. "Tell him to make his guard let go of Ford, Teyla."

Teyla glanced John's way, closed her eyes briefly, and said something forceful. After a moment, the Seer nodded and gestured to the guard, who didn't let go, but did put the knife away.

The Seer spoke to the other guards and all but Ford's two and two near the Seer, and the two standing near the bed filed out.

Better. Not great, but better, and Teyla was a damn good fighter.

Teyla sighed and came toward them. "You must both listen to me and not speak. I know that your people have difficulty speaking of intimate matters." She glanced back at Ford and lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "I also know that you do not ask and must not tell when it comes to intimacy between two people of the same sex. However, you must forgive me for speaking bluntly, they will take us downstairs to a room in the lower temple in a moment, and I have bargained for one thing for you, but there is a price."

John swallowed hard. "What, Teyla, what did you bargain for?"

"It is custom for the joining ritual to be witnessed by the Seer," Teyla said softly, "But I have convinced him that your people value privacy so highly that you would rather die."

"And?" Rodney's voice was sharp.

Teyla sighed. "And he has agreed, but has demanded that both of you be examined by the temple healers after. I am permitted to explain matters to you," she glanced warily at the Seer, who appeared to be losing patience. "So I must be quick. You must each join with the other before the ritual is considered complete. There is a kind of ointment in a small jar beside the bed for your use, and water and towels and soap for cleansing after."

That was her bargain? John nodded, dumbstruck. Right. Great. Wonderful. Just when he thought things were bad enough, they took another left turn into the weird and worse.

Teyla put one hand on his shoulder, another hand on Rodney's shoulder and touched her forehead to theirs in turn before drawing back.

The Seer spoke to the guards, four of whom who marched Teyla and Ford out. That left two and the Seer, and while he was calculating odds, Rodney squeezed his fingers hard and hissed, "Don't even think about it, they'll kill Ford and Teyla."

John gave Rodney a startled look and the Seer took hold of their bound wrists, raised them, and used his knife to cut through the fabric with appalling ease.

John promptly let go of Rodney's hand and flexed his fingers. The Seer was already moving, and the guards withdrew behind him, closed the door with a final sort of snick.

"Well, this is wonderful," Rodney said and regarded the bed.

John went to the door and listened, heard murmuring. Fuck. He carefully tried the door latch anyway, but it was clearly barred on the other side. Double fuck.

Rodney was investigating the room.

"Anything?" John asked, hoping.

"A small, barred window that even you wouldn't fit through," Rodney said flatly. "Small table, a basin, a ewer, a stack of towels, something I assume is soap beside it, a chamber pot underneath, a bed, bedding, another small jar of something I assume is intended for lubricant. Nothing else that I can see."

John twitched involuntarily at that fairly explicit reminder of why they were here. "Okay, we've got to come up with something."

Rodney gave him a long look. "Such as?"

John checked out the window anyway, tried to twist the bars to no avail. "Who the hell has bars in a honeymoon suite?"

Rodney shrugged and hoisted himself up onto the bed, tucked the robe neatly around the bits he wanted covered, and let his legs dangle. "These people, evidently."

Fuck. John hit the window with his fist anyway; of course, the thick glass didn't break. He didn't deserve his rank. He didn't deserve to be a team leader. He'd screwed the pooch six ways from Sunday and now he and Rodney were expected to screw each other.

He paced around the room, trying to think, and failing; the murals were certainly detailed and he and Rodney certainly did seem to be enjoying themselves in them.

"Are you really that flexible?" Rodney asked.

John turned suddenly to see Rodney staring at the ceiling, looked up. Holy Mother of God. "I don't think so," he said faintly.

Rodney tilted his head. "Thank God."

John gave up and went to climb on the bed beside Rodney, tucking his robe the same way. "What the hell are we going to do?"

"Why the hell are you asking me?" Rodney scowled at him. "You're in command."

John stared at him, trying to decide whether or not he was offended. "Do you really think I'd order you to…" He looked away, and unfortunately, his gaze landed on a particularly interesting section where his legs were over Rodney's shoulders and he was evidently enjoying himself one helluva lot. "That," he said weakly and pointed, suddenly really glad he'd arranged the robe; his dick gave an impatient sort of twitch as if telling him to get with the program.

Rodney looked. "That's at least believable in terms of anatomy," he said snidely.

Irritated beyond endurance, John thumped Rodney's shoulder. "You really do think I'm that much of an asshole, don't you."

"What choice do we have?" Rodney swung his legs, stared broodingly at the wall. "Actually, I thought you'd order me to do that," he added and lifted his chin.

Before John could stop himself, he looked. Rodney was seated in his lap, having the same very good time John had been having on the other wall. He looked away quickly. "I can't believe you think that little of me."

"There's nothing little about that." Still snide. "At least not if the proportions are in any way realistic."

John was *so* not going to look again. "I have no idea what to do."

Rodney snorted. "I think the pictures provide a pretty good primer."

John thumped Rodney's shoulder again. "Dammit! This isn't—" He put his head in his hands suddenly. "Jesus, Rodney, this *is* my fault, I should have been a lot more alert, I should never have relaxed. I'm so fucking sorry, and I don't know what to do, and if we don't, God knows what they'll do to Ford."

There was a long silence. John kept waiting for Rodney to rip him apart with words. Rodney was really good with words, and John sure as hell deserved it.

Instead, he heard Rodney sigh.

"John," Rodney said kindly. "This isn't your fault. You're completely overlooking all the mysticism crap. These people have some weird prophecy and we just happen to look a lot like the people they've imagined will fulfill this prophecy. If you'd been alert, all that would have happened is that people would have very likely died. Probably theirs, not ours, but it would not have been a good thing."

John considered that. "Maybe."

"Mysticism can make people nuts," Rodney said and sighed. "And you know I'm right."

John lifted his head and looked at Rodney. "So what do we do?"

Rodney sighed again. "I didn't say I could think of a way out of it. I don't think we have a choice."

John's mouth went dry and naturally, his dick twitched again. "Oh." He put his head in his hands.

"Have you ever done this?" Rodney asked, swinging his feet again.

"What?" John jerked his head up to see where Rodney was looking. Rodney was looking at him, somewhat amused in spite of the situation.

"I meant with another man, Major?"

"Have you?" John demanded, wondering if he would be relieved or upset if Rodney said yes.

"I asked you first." Rodney looked around the room.

"Oh, that's mature," John said snidely, knowing he was behaving just as badly.

Stubborn look. "Well, I did."

Rodney drove him nuts.

Rodney was also a lot of fun, and he took and gave ribbing without getting any pissier than he had been to start with, and he was so fucking intelligent that it was scary. Building atomic bombs in sixth grade. Or was it eighth? He couldn't remember, but it was pretty amazing, whichever grade it was. Rodney was brave, too, even when he tried not to be. Rodney was solid, not only in the physical sense. Rodney was kind, although he didn't always like to be caught at it. Hell, he counted on Rodney, he liked Rodney. A lot. He could do this. He could let Rodney do this. It was just sex. No biggie.

They were friends. Friends could have sex.

John just wasn't sure how to get the ball rolling, so to speak. "I think you should, um, go first."

Rodney's head whipped around and Rodney frowned at him. "What?"

"Me, I mean, you should, um." God, this was weird. John jerked his thumb at the picture of him with his legs over Rodney's shoulders. "First. Me, I mean."

Rodney's frown took on an alarmed edge. "*Have* you ever done that?"

"What difference does it make?" John demanded, more embarrassed than ever. "Like you said, we don't have a choice."

"It makes a difference," Rodney said stubbornly and lifted his chin.

John really, really liked Rodney, but right now, Rodney was driving him nuts. Rodney was right, he was in charge, and he needed to get this show on the road before he froze completely. He leaned in sharply and put his mouth on Rodney's.

They both went very still.

Rodney's mouth felt nice, softer than John expected. He could see Rodney's surprised look, which was kind of funny, really, although not under these circumstances. He gentled his mouth, went for a real kiss and that seemed to work okay, Rodney didn't shove him away or anything, and he turned toward Rodney, put one arm around him, risked stroking the tip of his tongue over Rodney's nice warm lips.

Rodney's lips parted obligingly, which was even better, and really, the only thing really weird about it was the beard stubble, but then he had it, too, so Rodney was probably thinking the same thing. The kiss was nice, though, and John thought maybe Rodney was relaxing a little, so he rubbed his other hand up and down Rodney's bare arm.

Maybe Rodney's arm wasn't what he should be rubbing. Of course, once that occurred to him, it couldn't un-occur, and all he could think about was what Rodney's cock might feel like; well, that, and what Rodney's tongue and mouth felt like at the moment, which were both really, really good things. John was starting to breathe harder in spite of the general weirdness of the situation just because it *was* really, really good.

Rubbing Rodney's cock might be even better, said a little voice in the back of John's mind, and so he stopped rubbing Rodney's arm and rubbed his chest, which seemed like a more natural progression to moving down. He lost track of his hand for a minute, because the kissing was really, really good. Rodney really knew how to kiss. Rodney, in fact, kissed amazingly well.

John hadn't known that about Rodney. It was a good thing he hadn't known that about Rodney, or he might have been thinking about kissing Rodney earlier. Like in briefings. Or on missions.

Or whenever Rodney opened his mouth, which was a lot. Kissing Rodney shut him up, another thought that hadn't occurred to John before, but which was also unlikely to un-occur now that it had.

When John noticed his hand next, it was rubbing Rodney's thigh instead of his chest. That was okay; that was in the right general vicinity, and John only jumped a little when fingers touched his cock. He hadn't realized he was already all the way hard.

That was mind-blowing. He was all the way hard from kissing Rodney.

John almost froze at the enormity of that realization, but then Rodney's fingers were around him, just right, and it seemed only reasonable and natural to return the favor. Rodney was hot and hard and thick in his hand and that was simultaneously scary as hell and so fucking hot his brain almost went into meltdown mode. Rodney's thumb rubbed at his tip, spreading slickness and it was kind of embarrassing to be leaking that much just from kissing and some touching, but he couldn't seem to get enough of either Rodney's mouth or the available oxygen.

They kept kissing and kissing and kissing, and stroking, of course, and then Rodney gently pushed John onto his back, which tipped things over for a second into high anxiety mode, except all Rodney did was keep kissing and stroking him. Not just his cock, either, but his belly, and the inside of his thighs, and his balls and behind his balls, and then back to his cock, and Jesus, no wonder he looked like he was having a good time in that painting. He tried to return the favor and it felt surprisingly good to feel Rodney's muscle and bone beneath warm skin.

Rodney's body was nice and solid and real, and John liked the little sound Rodney made when he stroked Rodney's cock up to the tip and then back down. He liked the way Rodney's tongue kept tangling up with his, and the way Rodney tasted, and the way Rodney sucked gently on his upper lip. He tightened his arm around Rodney's shoulders and Rodney's mouth moved away from his, moved down his jaw to his throat, and that felt fantastic. It felt even more fantastic when Rodney's mouth found his nipple.

John put his hand in Rodney's hair and pushed his hips up to thrust into Rodney's fingers, making sounds he didn't realize he was making until he heard himself. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, what were they doing, they couldn't get off with hand jobs, they were supposed to fuck.

"Rodney," John gasped, but Rodney licked all the way down to his navel, sucked at it, derailing whatever it was that he'd planned to say. It was stunning how good Rodney's mouth felt and on his *navel*, it was stunning how weirdly erotic the beard stubble felt, and Rodney shifted and pulled him over on the bed so they were sprawled full length.

"Okay, okay," Rodney muttered into his skin, as if he'd made some complaint. "Hold on, just a minute."

John couldn't figure out what Rodney was talking about, but since Rodney's mouth closed over his other nipple, he wasn't sure it was important. He pushed up against Rodney's body—and the strength of that body was mind-bendingly hot, too—pushed his cock against Rodney's, both of them slick and hard and whoa, thirty-six was kind of old to be figuring this out about himself, wasn't it?

Mild panic threatened, but Rodney kissed him on the mouth again, and John let himself drown in that for a while, his hands moving restlessly on Rodney's shoulders and neck and in Rodney's hair. He was so hard he ached, and he needed to come, but he needed Rodney to wait and somehow, he couldn't remember how to speak English long enough to tell him that.

Rodney shifted again. "Okay," he said drawing back a little. "It's going to be a little cool, John."

John's addled wits couldn't decipher that until Rodney had his thighs stroked open wide and something cool touched the entrance to his body. He started a little, remembered what the hell they were supposed to be doing, and didn't panic. "This is," he panted, and "Jesus, Rodney."

"Easy," Rodney murmured and slid a finger in.

It was strange and invasive, and except for the fact that John generally wasn't panting with desire and arousal in the flight surgeon's office, nothing too alarming or that he hadn't experienced. He spread his thighs a little more and Rodney kissed him long and lushly, and whoa, the flight surgeon had sure as hell never made him feel like that. Okay, okay, it was going to be okay, it was natural to have a few minutes of panic, he'd never done this before, but Rodney was his friend.

The second finger felt a little weird, but Rodney kept adding that ointment or cream or whatever the hell the slippery stuff was and working it into John. He felt so hot that he felt as if he were standing way too close to a fire. He wanted to put the stuff on Rodney's cock, wanted to feel Rodney's cock in his hand and see Rodney's face get focused when he did it; when Rodney reached to do so, he intercepted, took the slickness on his own fingers and gazed intently at Rodney while he did.

Rodney's eyes went half-closed and he pulled John's hand away too soon. "Can't," he murmured and lifted John's legs over his arms, kissed the inside of John's left knee.

John shivered, half panicked, all the way on fire, and then something thick and hot was pushing against him, pushing into him and it did hurt a little, but Rodney stopped. "Breathe, John."

John hadn't realized he was holding his breath. He breathed.

"Bear down," Rodney murmured. "Just, yeah, just like that."

John was shivering, still on fire, unable to stop, because Rodney was all the way inside him, and the whole universe took one huge sidestep because Frank Sheppard's boy wasn't supposed to let somebody put their cock up his ass, Frank Sheppard's boy wasn't supposed to like having somebody's cock up his ass, and he couldn't believe he was doing this, couldn't believe it was him.

"Easy," Rodney was stroking his shoulders and his chest. "Easy, John, I'm going to stop now."

That jarred John out of shock. "No. No, it's okay. I, just, this—" Deep breath. "It's different, that's all."

Rodney kissed him gently and then began stroking his cock again, slick fingers teasing him back to full erection and oh, God, he couldn't believe how good that felt. He reached up for Rodney's arms, closed his fingers around Rodney's biceps, and pushed back into each of Rodney's thrusts. Hot, so hot, he was sweating, and Rodney was sweating, dripping on his chest, and he had to move or just implode.

Rodney obliged him, thrusting more steadily, harder, faster and stroking him in the same rhythm until his back arched, and his body clenched hard on Rodney's cock and he came for what seemed like fucking forever.

When John could breathe again, Rodney kissed him gently, almost sweetly. He put his arm back around Rodney's shoulders, held on for a minute before Rodney could move. "Thanks." And he kissed Rodney back very gently.

Faint smile. "You're welcome. Just. Stay here, I'll be right back."

John nodded and Rodney got off the bed.

Everything felt strange and dreamlike and distant. The murals, the bed, the strange locale: nothing really seemed to touch John except for the tingle of whisker burn on his throat and chest, the odd and not unpleasant ache from being fucked. His body felt strange and sore and sated and languid all at the same time. He thought he could sleep, thought maybe he could afford to sleep for a few minutes. A power nap, he thought and then Rodney was back on the bed, wiping him clean of sweat and semen and that slick stuff, wiping his chest and belly and even the cleft of his ass.

John was a little embarrassed about that, but Rodney was careful and gentle and entirely matter-of-fact about it. The cloth went over the side of the bed and Rodney sprawled out beside him on his back.

He put his hand on Rodney's arm, closed his fingers gently over it, rubbed his thumb on the softer skin on the inside. Rodney closed his eyes, bumped his leg against John's. After a minute, John closed his.

They must have dozed for a while, because the light in the room was different when John opened them again. "Rodney," he breathed and Rodney sat up suddenly.

"God, how long did I sleep?"

"I dunno, I slept, too." John popped his watch open. "Oh, crap, maybe an hour."

"They're okay." Rodney scrubbed his face with both hands, gave him an odd look. "Second round."

John's stomach did a roller coaster maneuver. "Oh. Yeah."

Rodney laughed abruptly, looking absurdly young. "It's okay, John. I trust you."

"Um." John ran one hand through his hair. "Right." But he looked at Rodney, thought about what it felt like to kiss Rodney and then kissed him again. Kissing Rodney felt good, felt natural. Touching Rodney felt the same way. He was thirty-six years old, he shouldn't be as nervous as he had been at fifteen, but he was. At least he was thirty-six, so he could handle the nervousness better.

And touching Rodney was fantastic. Solid, strong, and Rodney's chest was nice, not as hairy as his, but firm. Rodney's cock was thicker than his, but about the same in length, and it fit his hand perfectly and he couldn't believe how amazing it felt to watch Rodney's expression shift as he touched him. He couldn't believe how amazing it felt to touch him. Thinking about fucking him blew any ability at coherent rational thought out the window, and he was so nervous his hands were shaking when he tried to get them both ready.

"John," Rodney said quietly, and touched his wrist. "I'll tell you, believe me."

John nodded. That was good enough. Rodney trusted him, he trusted Rodney. He had almost from the start.

Nothing had prepared John for how good it felt to be inside Rodney, to be buried balls deep and up close against Rodney's skin. He moved slowly and carefully until he couldn't move slowly any more and Rodney didn't need him to, and he touched and kissed and fucked until Rodney came for him and the sight and sound and scent tipped him over the edge to follow.

Then they were kissing each other again, hands loosely closed over wrists, legs entwined, and it was all good and how in the hell John had gotten here, he had no idea, except he'd relaxed when he shouldn't have and been mistaken for the answer to a crazy prophecy, and it was somehow the coolest thing in the world that it was Rodney McKay here with him.

They lay there together until their hearts slowed and their breathing was normal and John sighed. "I better go, ah, make 'em let us out again."

"Good plan." Rodney sat up, clearly prepared to shuck everything that had happened here in this oversized bed, but John sat up and nudged him. "What?"

"This happened," John said firmly. "I'd like to keep it off the official report, but it happened."

Brief frown. It worried him enough that his heart sped up again. "Well, of course it happened."

"John," he said and nudged. "Say my name, okay?"

The frown deepened. "John. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Surprisingly well," John said and slid off the bed, snatching up one of the discarded garments to wrap around his waist. "You?"

Rodney was watching him quizzically, head tilted to the side. "I'm fine."

"Good. Let's go rescue Teyla and Ford." John went to the door and rapped on it, grinned maniacally at Rodney, who was still watching him with that quizzical expression.

The Seer himself opened it, regarded John thoughtfully, and then looked at Rodney. The door closed again.

"Hey!" Incensed, John pounded on the door, bruising his knuckles.

The door opened suddenly again and there were guards, two of whom carried in their gear and clothes.

These were deposited on the bed and the guards left.

"Hmmm." Rodney looked at the pile. "I'm getting dressed."

Maybe they'd forgotten about the whole examination thing. Hell if John was going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Me, too."

They were dressed in minutes, armed right after that, and then ventured out into the first chamber. It was empty.

John looked at Rodney and shrugged before going to the huge double doors. He opened one carefully, slowly—it was a heavy motherfucker, and he had to put his back into it—and there, standing in the corridor, were Ford and Teyla.

"Thank God," Ford said, clearly relieved. "I'm sorry it took so long, sir, Teyla spent the last two hours arguing with that Seer."

John blinked, but nobody'd ever said he couldn't run with a surprise play. "No worries, Lieutenant. Good work, Teyla."

Teyla's relief was just as clear. "I am sorry, Major, but it took time to explain the ways of your people, but I convinced the Seer that the physical bond was not necessary, that the bond of the spirit was not only the most important, but that it would be honored."

The genius behind John just stared at Teyla. "You talked them into letting us go." Blank tone, not quite a question.

"Obviously," John said and nudged him to keep from letting anything spill. "I told you to have faith in them." He just hoped his mouth wasn't too puffy from all the kissing.

Rodney looked at him for a long moment, then back at Teyla. "And so he did."

John winced at the edge in Rodney's voice. He winced more at the look Rodney gave him.

If looks could have killed, John would have lain dead on the floor. As it was, the walk back to the jumper was waaaaay too long and the flight was worse.

At least Ford and Teyla agreed that the whole joining thing was off the books. The food in the jumper was good enough reason to spend five hours there, Teyla pointed out, and sure enough, Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised by what they'd brought back.

John couldn't get a read on Rodney's frame of mind during the briefing, and afterward, Rodney disappeared so fast he was practically a blur.

It left John's stomach upset. He performed his usual post mission duties, wandered a bit around the city, and finally filched a bottle of illicit home brew from one of the Marines, found two glasses in the mess, and meandered his way over to Rodney's quarters.

When John knocked, he heard a muted voice, so he opened the door and went in.

Rodney was sitting on his bed working at his laptop. Rodney looked up from the laptop to blink at him, his attention still mostly on whatever he was doing.

John closed the door behind him. "Hi," he said nervously.

"Hi," Rodney said and blinked at him again.

He held up the glasses and the bottle. "Buy you a drink?"

Rodney blinked. "Sure."

He felt wobbly with relief. "Great."

Rodney shifted his legs. "Sit."

Oh, yeah. He sat, handed Rodney a glass and opened the bottle to pour them each a drink.

Rodney arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"Barnhill drank three bottles last week," John said and sniffed it. "It's made from grain and honey," he added, belatedly remembering that Rodney supposedly was allergic to citrus.

Rodney nodded. As John was tipping the bottle over his glass, Rodney said, "You're not trying to get me drunk, are you?"

John jerked the bottle back, stung. "What?"

Rodney grinned, mischief clear.

"You bastard," John said, awed.

"It took you long enough to get here." Rodney lifted his chin.

"I thought you were pissed because…." Words failed him.

Still grinning, Rodney shrugged. "Who knew Teyla was so persuasive?"

Huh. "Who knew I was so easy?" John muttered and poured until Rodney's glass was half-full.

"There is that," Rodney said lightly. "And by the way, I have done that before. Although it's been a while."

John poured until his own glass was a little more than half-full. Stared at it for a moment. "So, I was wondering—"

"I took some video of the walls," Rodney said and took a sip, holding his gaze. "Just, you know, in case you ever wanted to see it again. While you were loading yourself back up with your assorted arsenal."

What was John wondering again? "So, um, videos."

Rodney took another sip, eyes bright with laughter.

John tried to gather his wits. "Rodney, you're not helping."

Rodney laughed outright.

Feeling a little desperate, John grabbed the front of Rodney's shirt and yanked him close, kissed him.

Rodney kissed him back.

Oh, yeah.

Things really had gone well on the planet. A little unconventionally, yes, but what was there to complain about? Nobody got hurt, nice meet and greet, nice mystical natives, and what the hell, they'd even come home with gifts.

Gifts, John Sheppard thought happily, tugging Rodney's shirt over his head, and they hadn't even been registered.

Yes, things really had gone well.


End file.
